Sooner or Later
by teamfreewill82
Summary: Okay, so this is a fic in Jo's P.O.V., because I love her and think she is totally awesome. So, here it is, kids. Read and review; much appreciation is thrown out to you all. :) -me


**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Supernatural**_** or anything relating to it except my writing. **** Thank you, all. **

Heeey, so another _Supernatural_ fic. This isn't a straight out ship fic but I really like the idea of Jo's P.O.V.; I hope you do too. Thanks for reading, and please review. Thanks, everyone. Smile on.

**Sooner or Later**

Fire. I can feel it rushing through my veins, the adrenaline pumping me forward. The barking is more than terrifying and makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

My mother and Sam are up ahead, guns at the ready, as is mine, but with a glance behind me I see Dean get taken down. My voice cries out without my brain even giving it permission, screaming his name, and I stop in my tracks. He yells for me to keep going, but if I did that he would die and we both knew it. I shoot in his direction, where the Hellhounds have got him locked down; hearing the firing Sam and mom have stopped as well, starting back towards us. They'd be hurt; I had to get Dean and run for it. How bad was he injured? I keep firing, sending the damned dogs farther back, farther still. Why the hell do they have to be invisible?

Suddenly, I'm pulled to the asphalt, my gun slipping in my grip. My mom, both she and Sam shooting, shouts my name from somewhere as the thing shreds my side, my legs; I can't be sure if I'm screaming or not as spots swim into my line of vision. Why can't I pass out already? I'm scooped into a pair of arms and, forcing my eyes open, I see it's Dean. He dashes into the nearest building, whispering to me that it'll be alright, and I can just barely nod before he sets me down against the counter on the cold floor.

Sam chains the door as mom tells me to breathe; every breath, each taken in as though I'm hyperventilating, feels like a fresh tear in my side. She sits beside me, aiding me, while the boys grab rock salt to keep out the dogs–for now, at least. Now, whereas before I wished I could float into darkness, I'm trying to keep my eyes from closing, but they feel heavy, so heavy, like I've been drugged. I look up drowsily to the boys as they crowd around us. The blood, coating my hand, has made it sticky, and mom has to peel it away from the wound. Blood dribbles in a steady stream from it, and she cringes at the sight of it. I can only make a grunt, of which doesn't capture the intense burning I feel. That's all the pain will allow of me. Mom, her eyes shining, looks up to Sam and Dean desperately; I turn my eyes to Dean. He glances away, his mouth gaping as he looks to this brother.

Dean delivers bandages; mom fixes me up the best she can in the shitty circumstances. I stare down at my stomach in horror, shuddering, and she tells me that I'll be alright. I find it very hard to believe her. Sam hands her a bowl for the filthy bandages; she thanks him and he walks away to speak with Dean. Mom and I can hear them from our few feet away and stare at them. They're talking about stopping the Devil, but how can they do that with the Hellhounds trapping us in this place like rats? Mom, to make our presence known, calls Sam over for some help with me and he obliges; Dean speaks with Bobby over a radio he set up.

I close my eyes for a moment, refusing to look at my injury, and then open them again so I can see Dean. He speaks in hushed tones–I think I hear my name–and glances at me from time to time. I keep my gaze trained on him for a while, then look away. Mom stands and goes to talk to Bobby; I stay seated, because really, what choice do I have? I feel worse than useless, and the searing pain just won't quit.

The boys have found out where Lucifer and the Colt are; I hear them talking. Dean says that before they can do anything they have to get me and mom out of here to safety. It's ridiculous, and even Sam says it won't be easy. Dean suggests something I can't make out and his brother turns to go. An idea blossoms in my mind, and I know what I have to do. "Stop. Guys, stop," I manage to eek out. They do. I take in a shaky breath. Mom looks worriedly between me and them. I ask them to be realistic about our situation, and at that, they approach me. I try to move my legs, to no avail, and I say, "I can't move my legs. I can't be moved. My guts are being held in by an ace bandage. We gotta–" I swallow; it feels as though my throat is full of sand. "We gotta get our priorities straight here." They exchange a look before turning back to me.

"Number one, I'm not going anywhere," I tell them. My mother tells me stop talking that way, and I wish I could raise my voice. "Mom. I can't fight," I say, as though she weren't already aware of this. I can hardly able to keep my eyelids from slipping shut. "I can't walk. But I can do something." Mom averts her eyes. "We got propane, wiring, rock salt, iron nails; everything we need."

Sam gives me a curious look, while I can see Dean had connected the dots in his own mind. "Everything we need?" he inquires. I tell him that we can build a bomb, and his brother immediately steps forward. "No. Jo, no," he says. I want to tell him that it isn't the time to be protective, but I don't. "You got another plan?" He glances away. I repeat myself, "You got any other plan? Those are Hellhounds out there, Dean. They've got all of our scents. Those bitches will never stop coming after you." Can't he see? Can't he see that I'm begging him here, to let me save him, to save them all? After a few moments, I continue, "We let the dogs in, you guys hit the roof, make a break for the building next over and I can–wait here with my finger on the button." I manage a smile. "Rip those mutts a new one. Or at least get you a few minutes' head start anyway."

When my mom speaks, I look to her; she tells me that she won't let me. She appears ready to cry and I wish she wouldn't. "This is why we're here right?" I say; she shakes her head in denial. "If I can get us a shot on the Devil," I train my eyes on Dean. He stares down at me with his piercing green gaze. "Dean, we have to take it."

"No!" Mom looks to him, he back at her. "That's not –"

"Mom," I say. She looks at me, her lip quivering. "This might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult? Might wanna take it." She starts to cry, her head bowing, and I turn to Dean for a moment before looking back to my mom. I nod, trying to smile when she nods in agreement, a trembling smile on her lips. "You heard her," she tells the boys. "Get to work."

While the boys and mom set it up I sit still, trying to keep my tears in. I think about my father, and know that he'd be proud of me. I'm dying a hunter's death, for our cause, for my friends. My family. Despite my want to cry, I breathe slowly in, out, in, out, my attempt at calming my nerves. I watch Dean and Sam work, my eyes lingering on Dean. I realize with a pang the whole last night on earth speech was actually turning out to be true.

A half hour later of scurrying around, Sam is with me, holding my hand in his own, covering both with his other. He lets go slowly, lightly touching my shoulder before standing. Our goodbye. Dean comes next, wiring trailing behind him towards the front of the store. He holds the detonator in hand as he kneels beside me. "This is it," he tells me, in a low, quiet tone. I smile at him the best I can manage, and he says, "See you on the other side." I try to smile but it's weak. "Prob'ly sooner than later," he adds. With a wavering smile I reply, "Make it later."

He moves my rifle, setting the button into my palm and clasping his hands around mine. We both have so much to say, but no time to get the words out, to even find them. Even if we did, it would be too painful to manage. He stares at our hands for a moment, then looks up to me. I stare back at him, and our smiles appear to be more of a grimace.

He lets go of my hand and leans forward, lifting his hands to cup my neck in them. He kisses my forehead, lingering, and I press my eyes shut to remember the sensation in my mind, for whatever is to come. Even more so now the tears want to escape. He lowers his head and his eyes look into mine. Who would've thought that we'd end up here? I swallow once more, sure of what he wants permission to do. I say nothing, but my consent is clear.

He sits forward again and presses his lips to mine, the lips I'd thought about, against my will, many times before, never believing that I'd ever kiss them. And now, when I am, I have only minutes to live. Our foreheads press together, our eyes shut. He whispers, "Okay," and pulls back, his expression telling me how much he's hurting. He stands and I know my want for him to stay is evident on my drained face.

I close my eyes as he walks away, unable to watch him go, but open them again when I hear someone approaching. My mom. She kneels down beside me, Sam and Dean behind her, watching as she takes my hand with the detonator. She gives me a sad, encouraging smile, which I try to return, though my quick breathing has begun again. Our silent exchange is not a happy one. "Mom, no," I whimper. "Somebody's gotta stay and let 'em in," she reminds me. I look away, biting my lip. "Like you said, you're not movin'." I roll my head back to meet her eyes. "You got me, Jo." I smile through my watery vision. "And you're right. This is important." I nod, my expression crumpling. "But I will not leave you here alone."

"Dean," Sam says, and mom interrupts, without looking back at them. "Get goin' now, boys." Dean's eyes flash with emotion. "Ellen," he begins, like a warning. "I said go," Mom says. They walk away, but before they're out of sight mom looks up at them. "And, Dean?" They stop, Dean swallowing. "Kick it in the ass. Don't miss." After a moment, and a last parting glance at me, they leave.

Mom, with a smile, turns back to me, laughing a little; I do the same, though it turns to crying. She moves my hair from my forehead gently, stopping when we hear breathing outside the door as it is pushed. She stands and goes to it, unchaining the door and tossing them down to the floor a couple feet away. She breaks the salt barrier with a swish of her foot and opens the propane tanks set in front of me.

My eyes feel heavier by the second; my breathing in slow motion. My grip grows weaker on the button. I'm aware of mom sitting next to me again, her arm around my shoulders, but the sting in my side has faded, the last of the salt water slipping from my eyes to my cheeks. I hear, as though from a distance, "I will always love you, baby," and I cannot manage a complete sentence in return. Those words are the last thing I hear before all goes dark.

_In loving memory and dedication to Joanna Beth Harvelle and her mother, Ellen, both strong and beautiful women. May they rest in Heaven, and know our love. _

_We love you both. _

_Xoxo_

_Afterwards…_

The sound came before the heat, and the latter was rather immediate, so you can imagine how instantaneous the reaction had been. Dean and his brother spun to see the fire; Sam was upset of course, but glanced at his brother to make sure he was somewhat alright. Dean stared at the explosion as though it were all slowed down, the only thing in his mind Jo's lips on his own and Ellen's parting words. It was over. They were really gone. If he hadn't had incentive enough to kill Lucifer before he sure as hell had it now.

He would avenge her. He would avenge them both.


End file.
